Don't Blink

Time seems to slip away faster now.

I blink and it's evening soon after I've sat down with my morning coffee, a fresh Scrivener page, and my planner.

I blink and those long gray sprouts from my scalp have chunked together. What used to look like shimmering highlights now bare the mark of age or distress. Which one? I'm not sure yet.

The Xanax in my purse says it's the latter, but I don't really need them, I don't think. 

I'm only supposed to take them.

The artwork that hangs in my home that draws oohs and awes from visitors was all done as a teenager.

I blinked and I was thirty. I blinked and I had pets and three kids and a house and cars and a husband.

Who's that? How did I meet him in between blinks?

Where did I find the time to have all these things? To get all these thing?

I'm not sure how any of this happened. It's all happening too fast. But I don't know how to slow down. No one told me.

Have I been stinted? Robbed of time? Held at gunpoint, I make decisions like they're the last ones I'll ever make. I took the advice of someone once, he told me to "live in the moment". I took him too literally, I suppose. Living in the moment makes time hasten.

I wished for Friday and Friday came and the weekend ended and then it's Wednesday and Friday rolled around again…

I'm going to blink and I'll be dead. If only I could keep my eyes open, always.

It only hurts sometimes. Not nearly as much as missing all this stuff.

If only the Time Keeper knew how much I tried to do, how much I tried to be a better person. 

A better companion. 

A better mother, wife, sister, daughter.

But then I blinked...

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I'm Sara. Mompreneur of 3, wife to super-awesome Brian, business coach, infopreneur and printable product creator.